


My Way

by ODeorainFan2150



Series: Moicy Week 2018 [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Day 4 - Life/Death, Everyone is a super spy, F/F, Moicy Week 2018, some mention of injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 15:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15866418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ODeorainFan2150/pseuds/ODeorainFan2150
Summary: With her pursuers closing in, Moira pays the ultimate price... on her terms of courseMoicy Week 2018 - Day 4 - Life/Death





	My Way

They were coming.    
  
Moira thundered up the stairs to her hideout, slamming through the door to the apartment before locking it behind her. She wouldn’t have long to make her arrangements in order to get the message out to the people who she’d need to make sure her journey wouldn’t end on the floor of this room in Amsterdam. The fact the first shot of the ambush had destroyed her biotic rig meant these were no amateurs and they didn’t seem too fussed about her being alive.   
  
But before they caught up, she’d need to set the tone. Discarding her damaged equipment, she made her way across to the ancient record player, her long fingers dancing over the music selection in front of her. Each disk was a memory, each an evening or day spent waiting here. Eventually, she found what she was looking and lifted the disk out of the packaging. Blowing dust from the turntable, she placed it into position before applying the arm and pressing play. It slowly began to spin.   
  
As the band began the tune, Moira rushed to the hard case under her bed. Inside were three bundles. Inside the first was two emergency switches connect to a small terminal. The switches were different colours - one purple with a sugar skull decorating the front, the other blue with a halo on top of the plastic. Moira slammed both, the terminal lighting up two red lights. As she watched they quickly changed to orange, her message sent to the interested parties. The LED screen now flashed “911”. She kept on eye on it while pulling out the next wrapped item.   
  
From the record player in the main room, the crooner from over 100 years ago started to sing   
  
_ “And now, the end is near and so I face, the final curtain” _ __  
  
Once removed from the wrapper, the next item was a two-part injector. Each liquid was held suspended, separate from each other until activated. She remembered helping Angela design it when they were back at Overwatch, one of Ana’s request for the intel branch. Part A was a small dose of nanobots, designed to act as one final chance should she get injured - agents with part A had managed to survive critical wounds (including broken bone and headshots) long enough for an Overwatch team to get to them. Part B acted as a blocker, preventing resurrection attempts unless it was being caused by nanobots with the correct signature. This reminded Moira to check the case again, seeing that one of the lights was now flashing green. The other was still a solid orange. This couldn’t wait - she was running out of time. She slammed the injector into the side of her neck, its contents pumped quickly into her system. Part A hit like a freight train, her adrenaline pumping even harder.   
  
_ “Regrets, I’ve had a few but then again, too few to mention” _   
  
The final item was a plastic case. Clicking open the two buttons, Moira looked down at a Caduceus Blaster. The black and red colouring harkened back to a time long ago but she knew it worked, trusting in its designer. Next to it was two magazines, each loaded with 20 rounds ready to go. It wouldn’t stop an army coming for her but it would at least help to maintain her reputation as someone able to hold her own when news of her demise inevitably hit the circuit.   
  
_ “I planned, each charted course, Each Careful step, along the by way” _   
  
She could hear them now, heading for the door. The security camera hidden in the peephole of the flat opposite had spotted them and sent the information to her eyepiece. Six goons, all with automatic weapons. One still had the shotgun whose blast had damaged her equipment and was now lining it up on the lock.   
  
She looked down when a triumphal bleep came from the terminal. Both lights were now flashing green, the terminal screen now displaying “GOOD-LUCK | TIMER-STARTED”. With her foot, she slammed the lid closed and moved to the kitchen counter, her gun covering the door.   
  
_ “Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew, When I bit off more than I could chew” _   
  
With a whomp, the lock exploded, a boot soon kicking the remnants open. The first goon entered through the smoke. Moira popped up, double tapping intruder Number 1 before shifting her aim to follow up on the next bad guy. Number 2 saw the barrel and ducked to the floor, the shots flying over his head to slam Number 3 in the chest. The impacts threw him through the door opposite, straight into the empty apartment Moira used as additional storage. Number 4 and 5 started shooting from the doorway, blasts ripping the kitchen apart. Moira dropped to the floor, spotted Number 2 hiding behind the sofa and slot a blast straight through it to drop him.    
  
The gunfire slowed for a second, long enough for a round object to sail in, bounce off the wall and land between Moira and the stove. The arrival of a grenade prompted her to relocate, diving through the door into the bedroom. She managed to slide behind cover milliseconds before the blast ripped apart the interior of her kitchen.    
  
The record player jumped before returning to the music   
  
_ “To think I did all that, And may I say - not in a shy way” _   
  
Moira rushed back into the main room, realising she was about to be trapped by the gang. Adrenaline pumping, she collided with Number 4 as she entered the ruins of her lounge, the pistol pressed into his chest. Grabbing his head, she slammed it into Number 5 before following up with a shot to his chest that went through both of them.   
  
Then she turned to see Number 6 with the scattergun standing between her and the door. For a moment, everything froze - her attention drawn to the barrel pointing at her chest. The last goon grinned behind his ballistic mask and pulled the trigger. With a blinding flash, Moira was propelled out the window.   
  
For a second she felt the full effect of the weightlessness, almost a sense of peace. Her pistol floated from her grip, it’s role complete. She could already feel her armour had only taken partial effect, the pain was blossoming throughout her abdomen. When she hit the street, she heard something crack and now the pain was everywhere. She tried to shift slightly but it was too much, causing her to cry out.   
  
Back in the flat, Number 6 moved to the window and looked down to the street. Before he could take in his victory, the box under Moira’s bed lit up. The small demolition charge she had as a “just in case” wasn’t big enough to level the building but it wiped out the top floor, immolating all evidence of her property, including her armour and the pile of bad guys that had kicked the door in.    
  
As she lay on the wet cobblestones, Moira could hear the final second of the tune playing, despite the speakers having housed the demolition device. As debris continued to fall, burnt scraps of paper fluttering in the breeze, the final words of the song echoed in her brain.    
  
_ “Yes, it was my way” _   
  
She started to laugh, blood spilling from her mouth a little before the darkness took her.   
  
\--    
  
The first inkling that she was coming back was the light. It seemed to stream in through the gaps in her eyelids. Either her mother had been right and she was actually about to have an uncomfortable meeting with Saint Peter or her message had been received and acted upon.   
  
The next thing to return was her hearing. She could hear muffled voices from the other room mid-discussion. The sound bounced between a deep voice speaking slowly to one much higher and speaking rapidly. As things started to come back into focus words begun to appear   
  
“How is someone so thin so heavy? It was like dragging iron” the deep voice intoned, a Russian accent now obvious but unexpected   
  
“Awww was the  __ Bruja too much for the champion of Russia? I thought you got medals for lugging heavy things”. The latin twang responded with a mocking tone that Moira knew all too well from Talon missions.    
  
As her eyes started to focus, she saw the exact face she wanted to see at a time like this looking down at her. Her blue eyes were filled with worry, concern pulling at her lips. A golden halo seemed to surround her head. Her hand reached out, cupping Moira's chin slightly.   
  
Moira coughed “I think your medicine failed, there seems to be an Angel here”   
  
Angela smiled and opened her mouth but before she could speak an explosion of noise came from the other room.

“THAT’S THE FIRST THING SHE SAYS?” Sombra almost screamed “I BET YOU’D START OFF WITH “WHERE AM I” OR SOMETHING PRACTICAL”   
  
A taller figure with pink hair leaned into the room and caught Moira’s eye, her hoodie’s rolled up sleeves revealing powerful arms underneath “ _ Niet _ , your Baba Yaga was waking up to loved one’s face. She’d go straight for angel joke”. The woman looked back into the other room “and you now owe me drink”   
  
Angela’s face became sterner. “Thank you to both of you for your outbursts but maybe we should focus on the patient for a moment. She’ll talk to you in a bit” With that, she closed the door, leaving the two doctors alone.   
  
Moira watched Angela as she returned to her bedside. “How long was I out?”   
  
Angela patted Moira’s hand before answering “Two days. The emergency injection managed to start repairing the spine and internal damage once you passed out. By the time Sombra and Zarya got to you, they had to pull you out of the Amsterdam morgue. The resurrection bought you back but I kept you under sedation until the damage was repaired.” Angela continued to hold Moira’s hand as they sat looking at each other. “I hear the underground is full of stories of Dr O’Deorain’s Last Stand. The last retelling said it was 20 tactical officers and a Bastion that took you out.”   
  
“I knew you’d come,” Moira said “I hope I didn’t ruin anything”   
  
This brought a smile to Angela’s face “just a fundraising dinner, nothing important.”   
  
She leaned in closer, gently kissing Moira’s lips.    
  
“Now, let’s try not to do that again, hmm?”   
  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Things I love:  
> 1\. The song "My Way"  
> 2\. Writing Overwatch stories that could be from a high-tech spy thriller
> 
> EDIT: Minor edits on 29/09/18 to improve readability
> 
> If you like this work, I love hearing your comments - I'll always try and respond! Alternatively, drop me an email at odeorainfan2150@gmail.com
> 
> Follow me on twitter at https://twitter.com/deorainfan2150 for news on what I'm working on next.
> 
> If you want to throw me a tip, you can find my Ko-Fi at https://ko-fi.com/odeorainfan2150.


End file.
